I Miss You Already + We Hadn’t Even Met Yet: an Ode to the Friendships Stuck in Your Phone
I paced around my living room, peering out the window, clutching my small dog under one arm, and using my other hand to repeatedly check my phone for the time, my stomach knotting deeper with each second ticking closer to 1:00 pm. My friends were set to arrive any minute now, and it felt like I was meeting them for the first time, despite the fact I had technically met them last August at Lollapalooza 2025, the first time we all met up for Del Water Gap.
For those who are unfamiliar, Del Water Gap is the stage moniker of musician Holden Jaffe, who has a real penchant for writing gut-wrenching lyrics set to blossoming chords. I had been casually familiar with a handful of his songs for the past several years, but throughout 2024 and particularly into 2025, I found myself more drawn to his music than ever before, using it as an anchor during a difficult time. With him quickly eating up every top spot on my Spotify account, I became desperate to see him perform live, and when he was announced on Lollapalooza’s lineup, I immediately bought myself a ticket, waiting to worry about the logistics until later (something I am not known to do). After realizing none of my friends wanted to travel for the festival, I decided to join a fan-run Discord dedicated to Del Water Gap.
I was eager to talk to other fans and make plans for our big Lollapalooza meetup. Among the mods for the Discord were two other members of THE UNSEEN team: Miri (design) and Lauren (social media). Everyone in the Discord was exceedingly welcoming. No one made me feel guilty for being a newer fan or tried to gatekeep newcomers from any of the discussions about his music. It was a place where we talked about our favorite songs and laughed about the silly things he posted on his "finsta."
I was content with the community I built on Discord, our conversations particularly picking up as summer went on and Lollapalooza neared. But actually showing up and meeting everyone at Lollapalooza felt… surreal, like it was too good to be true. Here, finally, are these faces I had seen in photos and voices I had heard in videos, but they were actually standing in front of me. These people had lived in my phone, and now, they lived in the actual air I was breathing, and they were singing, dancing, making jokes, and creating memories. I felt a kinship to them, but I did not know how to express it. I did not know what to make of these contacts in my phone who had just sprung to life; I was getting lost in my head about it: would they like me in person? All of the nerves I had while drafting my first messages to them months before came crashing back, and I found myself hesitating before every word I barely managed to utter. It took me that entire day to adjust to them being real people, and not just usernames on my Instagram or chat bubbles in my Discord, and by the time I was ready to soak in their presence, the day was over.
I felt this overwhelming ache in my gut, and it was not just because of the ordinary post-concert blues I was accustomed to, but for this community that had come and gone so quickly. I had spent months building up these group dynamics in my head, and I wanted a redo, a chance to live through this moment with them all again. I had been so excited, but when it came time, I was still agonizingly shy and felt like an outsider looking in on a tight-knit community. And yet, I think all of us were feeling that way to an extent. In fact, Holden himself repeatedly talks about how painfully shy he was growing up, and maybe that is why this community came together in the first place, a commiseration of shy kids who feel a lot but never quite know how to express themselves. Inadvertently, Holden has given us that expression through his music.
During his first sold-out show in Brooklyn on January 22nd, Holden told* the crowd:
I’m a little bit at a loss for words. At the risk of getting a little too emo early in the show, I just want to say…getting to this stage was not a straight line for me…anytime I had a wish, the one thing…I would wish for, was music, you know, this great, shimmering dream of getting to do this. And, you know, it was frustrating, and this dream of music felt like this room that there was a bunch of people in there, and I was on the outside, and I was looking in, and they were waving at me, and I couldn’t figure out how to get in, and that really broke my heart, over and over again. And just when the pandemic happened, my tour canceled, everything fell apart, and I was like, ‘Alright, it’s time to find a new dream.’ And just when I did that, you all appeared. You all appeared in front of me. And…I’m so grateful for that. And this weekend in New York, I get to play for 6,000 people. 6,000 people that know these songs that I wrote from this very lonely place. I’m so honored, thank you.
*lightly edited for clarity
Looking into a room and frantically trying to get in is such a universal, familiar feeling, and one that I felt painfully rang true at Lollapalooza, after failing to ingratiate myself with these people who had been so friendly and so kind to me. Funnily enough, something a handful of us have since talked about was how unsure we all felt at Lollapalooza, still figuring out our positions in each other’s lives. We all felt like outsiders in different ways, like a shy new kid, but we did not voice it at the time. I needed that day at Lollapalooza to get used to the fact that this was a living, breathing group of people that had known each other longer than I had, and it was okay to feel nervous, because we had all been the new kid before. We needed that warmup of meeting for the first time at Lollapalooza, and just as Holden said, we all appeared when he was about to give up. We did the same thing for each other, showing up and showing out on his current Chasing The Chimera World Tour, embracing as old friends who were just happy to see each other again.
Still, I was anxious. It was mostly a good anxious, like the head-rush or stomach-drop from climbing up the hill on a roller coaster. But I still found myself obsessing over where I could find my place within this larger friend group. I vowed not to be so shy this time around, to face my fears and find my voice. More than anything, I always knew I could find my voice through writing, something I have used as a crutch my entire life. To keep myself accountable in this idea, I reached out to Miri and Lauren, and asked if they would be interested in creating a piece about Holden for THE UNSEEN, as told through the eyes of his fans during his Chasing The Chimera World Tour. Naturally, I was nervous for this, too (I am nervous for most things), as I wanted to write something that accurately describes the affinity we feel toward his music and to each other. As I quickly found out, fitting in with these friends was not anything I needed to worry about; no, my biggest concern quickly became: how am I going to accurately convey all the beautiful moments and feelings this fandom and tour have given me?
When I saw him perform at Lollapalooza, I had forgotten how healing live music is, how much it can nurse a broken heart or an ailing spirit. And now, for his current tour, I spent six days running around three different cities, seeing him perform four times, in the midst of an unprecedented, record-breaking winter storm. Six days of waiting for hours in the bitter cold, running on next-to-no-sleep, growing hungrier and hungrier without a working appetite, surrounding myself with constant company despite my natural inclination to introversion, and most importantly, sweating off layers each night singing and dancing to his existential music. I should have felt like a shell of a person. And while this all left me feeling exhausted, it was a special, once-in-a-lifetime exhaustion. More than anything, I was invigorated.
Feeling the cold metal of the barricade against my bare skin or seeing the lights go down just before he stepped onto stage was like a jolt of lightning each night, propelling me to find energy I did not know I had stored up in my soul, waiting to be unleashed. Screaming along with songs about loneliness, mental breakdowns, and existential dread alongside fellow humans who each have their own complex and highly personal relationships to these words created a healing so deep and so cleansing that it feels like a crater is left in its place when it is over. It became obvious that Del Water Gap shows were not just a safe place for his biggest fans, but a cherished homecoming again and again, making it that much harder to say goodbye.
When looking back on my experience and thinking about what to write, I keep returning to those moments before my friends arrived at my house, for our first meeting since Lollapalooza, when I was nervous I would say or do the wrong thing, but the foundation of our friendship was already formed. As Holden mentioned in Brooklyn, he wrote so many of his songs from such a lonely place, when his heart was breaking over and over again. This honesty is bleeding through the lyrics in all his songs, enveloping his most ardent listeners into a common thread so familiar that it is as if we have already reached a deeply personal moment of friendship with each other.
Over the course of our time waiting in line, driving to the venues, and planning our schedules, I fell into an ease with Lauren, Miri, and our other friends forged through the Discord and online fandom. Beyond Holden’s music, I learned about their workplaces, sibling relationships, career interests, and more. The conversations may have started with Del Water Gap to ease the transition, but it was easy to slide into a deep familiarity, using these relatable songs as a safety blanket to build friendships where we each happen to have uniquely personal connections to a specific artist’s catalogue. There is an ease of correspondence there, like a mask has already been slipped, and there is a vulnerability that has already been poking through the surface, just waiting for someone to reach out and pull. None of us planned to find ourselves wrapped up in the music of an artist who uses a Horse With Bowl Cut as his mascot, but we have been swept together by the same wave, and it is obvious in our interactions together that this has been a community worth building.
Throughout our six days of traveling, (not) eating, (not) sleeping, and standing outside in frigid temperatures together, this community has shown up in simple, but stunning, ways—
Running late for trains, wrestling with over-packed suitcases down the aisle, hefting them above our heads, cramming into one Uber, sitting in laps, sharing seat belts
Bundling up for nights in New York with our staticky hair wrapped up in our scarves, showing up underdressed to eat the best vodka rigatoni pasta of our lives, cracking our voices from laughing so hard on the way home, briefly forgetting the frozen feel of our fingers as our insides warmed with the drunkenness of just being together
Shuffling together into the pit, filming each other’s surprised reactions to the setlist, and hugging shoulders when that one special song plays
Celebrating each other’s victories, like scoring a signed setlist, or getting chosen to do the “NFU” lights
Borrowing small objects like safety pins, belts, socks, and other essential items forgotten at home (while an overabundance of sweaters were packed instead)
Wrapping oneself in a blanket to cushion the pain of empty hotel rooms after everyone has departed, creating a stillness so severe it is suffocating
Ignoring the concert photos and videos that are burning a hole in your phone, because looking at them feels like admitting the chase is over
And all of these moments add up to the most brutally honest truth: the frantic look into lodging accommodations, train or plane reservations, and concert tickets for Del Water Gap’s last show, itching for any moment with a family that has become so precious the sun feels a little dimmer without them.
I have often thought a lot about how artists can feel like our close friends, and why, as fans, we want to celebrate their accomplishments and commiserate with their shortcomings, like we have personal stake in their livelihoods. We mourn them when they are gone and feel joyful in their presence. It is inherently parasocial, but I do not think it is always in a negative way– it is simply accepting the fact that art is where people go to escape, to laugh, to cry, to think, to breathe, to live. In our loneliest moments, our favorite art mediums are there. In our happiest moments, our favorite art mediums are there. This is why, in my opinion, it is easy to find deep connections with our favorite creators and artists. Holden, especially, lays himself bare through painfully candid lyrics, taking a lot of courage to be so direct in his honesty. This inherent trust with his fans gives us the safety to be honest with each other about our own relationships to these songs, and through this shared bond, all of our unique and individual attachments to his music begin bleeding into one another, lacing together our favorite songs and verses and visceral memories all soundtracked with the same music. After finding identity in his lyrics, it is easy to find that identity reflected back in fellow fans, discovering threads to connect us all, and breaking open a dialogue at his concerts that allows the audience to offer a conversation back to him onstage.
2024 and 2025 held some particularly difficult moments for me, filled with uncertainty, anxiety, and sudden upheaval, and I was unwittingly isolating myself from friends and family. In my absence, I leaned extensively on the music of Del Water Gap. While I do not condone music attachment by way of isolation, I cannot deny the comfort I found in Holden’s music or the solace I found in his lyrics, which led me to this community. Getting through a difficult period is a group effort, usually with several different aspects and methods involved, but Del Water Gap was certainly a big part of my experience through the commotion.
As I said before, his music and online community ultimately led me to THE UNSEEN, and I knew my first article with the magazine had to be a collaboration with Miri and Lauren on the community of Del Water Gap. We want to create something meaningful out of these songs that have brought us together, but the truth is, we already have created so much meaning in our experiences with each other and in the rooms filled with people excited to listen to the same music, finding power from a myriad of emotions— heartache, joy, grief, and so much more. The Internet can be such a brutal place, but the Del Water Gap community is a breath of fresh air, created by the man at the center and curated by the fans who support him and one another—Holden is just happy to be invited into the room, and he will be there as long as we have anything to say about it.
WRITTEN BY
Mary
I was a very shy kid, so I found my solace in writing, where I could say whatever I wanted to a blank page. This hobby turned into a passion, which turned into a lifeline, which is (hopefully) turning into a career! I am mostly inspired by poetic lyrics in songs I repeatedly listen to, descriptive language in novels I cannot put down, and scenes from movies or television that just won't stop playing in my head.
